


To Be Human

by RanebowStitches



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dehumanization, Domestic, Fluff, Human Fighting Ring, Learning to be Human, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating is subject to change, carl is 18, instead of a puppy carl brings home negan and begs his dad to keep him, it sounds dark but it's going to be mostly light, mentions of abuse, mentions of dead dogs, mute!negan, other ships apply but they are so subtle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2018-12-01 07:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11481810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RanebowStitches/pseuds/RanebowStitches
Summary: After years of being forced to participate in an underground post-apocalyptic fighting ring, Negan is finally rescued by Carl and a group of Alexandrians. Thrown back into a world that is no longer familiar to him, he must begin anew, choosing to put his trust in a kindhearted Carl Grimes. Together they learn just what it means to be human.





	1. The Man in the Cage

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just want to say how excited I am to be writing this! I have a lot of great scenes already planned and I'm pumped to get to them! I want to give a thanks and shout out to my friend [milarca](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Milarca/pseuds/Milarca) for being there to yell headcanons back and forth with me and for editing this story. Check out her work and thank her because without her this story would be all over the place ahaha~
> 
> Also, like it says in the tags, Carl is 18. At the moment I'm still debating whether or not to include any kind of sexual content, because I do have an idea for it, but I want to see if it actually fits into the story, so the rating is subject to change!
> 
> Also, if anyone has ever seen Valhalla Rising, the first part of that movie is pretty much what was going on pre this first chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The search party assumed the building was abandoned after they had camped by it for the night and never saw anyone leave nor enter. In the morning, the small group packed up and made their way closer, hoping to find some good supplies to bring back to the people of Alexandria. The building looked like an old warehouse or large storage garage, and the front door was unlocked and swung open easily when pushed. It had to have been recently in use for the hinges not to squeak something fierce.

The darkness was cut by sunlight streaming in through windows that lined the upper portion of the tall walls. It allowed the group to see a large pit that was dug into the ground in the back portion of the large open space they walked into. The pit was surrounded by bleachers and smelled of rotted flesh and spoiled blood. A few carcasses sat at the bottom of the pit, too mangled to tell if they were human or beast. On either end of the pit stood a metal pole with a chain attached. The one on the right was still connected to a collar around the neck of a walker who was collapsed on the ground. The group of Alexandrians waited a moment to see if there was any movement, but everything in the pit was still. Satisfied, they split into pairs and began exploring, weapons at the ready.

The first pair found what looked like an office sitting three flights of stairs up above the pit. A large window on the left wall allowed the inhabitants of the office to view the pit below. The room had been ransacked prior to their entrance. Chairs knocked over, table broken, empty bottles and food wrappers everywhere. The pair searched through the mess and found a body, fully dead. It looked like it never even had the chance to turn as it's brains had been blasted out execution style. They took a keyring that was clutched in the corpse’s rigor-mortis-frozen hand and left.

The second pair found a kitchen. Wrappers, cans, and bottles were strewn across the floor. They checked for any kind of danger, alive or undead, and found none before searching through the trash on the ground and in the industrial sized freezer at the end of the room for anything edible. They searched through the walk-in pantry and all of the cabinets, filling their bags with anything of use. The pair left the room with their bags heavy with food, large cooking pots packed with more food, and grins on their faces.

The third pair found a room full of cages. They were large with metal bars and cold to the touch. The two tried every cage door they passed as they explored the large room. Most of the cages were empty, but some held the rotting corpses of dogs and humans alike. A few of the corpses were groaning and reaching through the bars, but many were silent. The room smelled of death.

When the path the pair were walking on forked, they each took a different direction. The younger man kept his eye peeled as he walked, trying to imagine why someone would have such a room in such a building. His heart tugged as he found more and more dead dogs. They didn’t deserve this fate. 

Just as he reached the end of the path and was about to turn back, he heard a small noise, something akin to a whimper. Was one of the dogs alive? He turned towards the cage that was the source of the noise and squinted through the darkness. Something in the far back corner shifted, but he couldn’t tell what it was. Flicking on his flashlight, he raised the light beam slowly, gasping as it fell, not on a dog, but on a man. A living, breathing, man.

The man in the cage looked up at the boy, eyes dilating in the harsh light. The two stared each other down. A low growl began rumbling from the man. The boy lowered his flashlight beam away from the man’s face and took in his bruised and battered body. Curled as far into the corner of the cage as was possible, the man had no clothes on, nor any kind of covering, and was shivering badly. Cuts, scars, and dried blood covered his exposed skin. He held his right arm gingerly but protectively against his chest. The boy’s heart ached.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of there,” he told the man before moving over to the cage door and pulling on the lock. He thought he heard the man scoff, but couldn’t be sure. Pulling and kicking on the door resulted in nothing. The lock was stuck tight. The boy huffed in frustration. Suddenly, footsteps tapped closer to him and he whipped around, flashlight and gun raised in an instant. His father blinked rapidly and held up his hand at the blinding light.

“Carl? It’s me. Did you find something?”

“Yeah.” Carl holstered his gun and shone the light back into the cage, careful not to shine the light directly into the man’s eyes again. “He’s alive, but I think he’s hurt, and I can’t get the cage open.” His father hummed and took in the man in the cage who bared his teeth and growled louder. Fear, pain, and exhaustion were swimming in the man’s eyes, and the boy’s father knew those mix of feelings all too well. He knew they had to save him. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to get you out,” he assured the man before tugging on the door himself. The man looked away from the both of them. The movement caused something to clink and Carl raised the flashlight up. Connecting a leather collar that was tight around the man’s throat to one of the bars of the cage was a short metal chain. Carl gasped again.

“Dad,” he said, causing his father to pause just as he had his axe above his head, about to bring it down on the lock on the door. “He’s chained to the cage. Look.” Carl gestured with the flashlight beam and his father lowered his axe slowly. He narrowed his eyes at the chain.

“Maybe he’s dangerous. He could be in there for a good reason,” his father stated, shrugging slightly. The man in the cage glared up at the him. “We really don’t know what went on here.”

“We have to at least give him a chance, Dad. We can’t just leave him here to die! He’s hurt and scared.”

“Rick? Carl?” A voice suddenly echoed from the far side of the room.

“We’re over here, Glenn!” Rick called back before turning back to his son. “Alright, alright. Let’s get him out.” He raised his axe again and brought it down hard and fast against the lock. A loud  _ clang  _ echoed throughout the room as the axe bounced off the lock, successfully denting it but not breaking it in the least. Father and son looked at each other, baffled.

“What are you guys doing over here?” Glenn asked as he led the group towards father and son. “Ringing bells?” 

Carl gestured towards the cage in front of them and explained the situation. The man in the cage looked frantically at all the new people who had appeared and gnashed his teeth while turning farther into the corner of the cage at the same time.

Carl turned to the group and stated adamantly, “We have to get him out.”

“Well,” a woman spoke up from behind Glenn. “We found a key ring with a bunch of keys on it in the office. I bet one of these opens—” 

Carl grabbed the keys from her hand before she could finish her sentence and immediately began trying the first one in the lock. His hands shook as he tried to turn it and failed, removing it and going to the next one. The man in the cage stared at Carl with unblinking eyes. The second key didn’t move. The third key didn’t fit at all. The fourth key turned with a solid  _ thunk _ .


	2. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting the man out of the cage was a hassle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented on the first chapter I am so happy people are already liking this story!
> 
> Thanks again to my great friend [milarca](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Milarca/pseuds/Milarca) for editing and putting up with my cegan feels.
> 
> Alright, you people ready to start getting somewhere? Let's get going!

Getting the man out of the cage was a hassle.

He growled and hissed at anyone who came close. His feet kicked and banged against the cold metal floor, lashing out as best he could while being chained. The leash was only a foot long, so there really wasn't much room for him move. The more he struggled, the harder it pulled on his throat, but he didn’t seem to pay it any attention as he tried to bite and scratch anyone who entered.

Rick had tried to go first, crouching down to the man’s level and moving slow, but all he got was a solid kick in the knee. Wincing as he stepped out of the cage, he proposed that they think of a new plan.

“What about Rosita?” he suggested. Rosita huffed, hands on her hips.

“What? Just cause I’m a woman you think I can calm him down?” She gestured towards the man in the cage who was still growling at them.

“No, that’s—that’s not why,” Rick stammered, holding his hands up.

Rosita rolled her eyes and pushed past him, climbing into the cage. She got about an inch closer than Rick had, but almost got her fingers bitten off as she reached for the metal chain. After she jumped out of the cage, the group began to debate what to do. Half wanted to leave the man, and half wanted to save him. Someone suggested sending the entire group in and tying his hands together. Someone suggested knocking him out and carrying him.

But Carl, who was sifting through the food in the pots that the others had collected, already had a plan. Pulling out a couple of granola bars, he shoved some in his pocket and unwrapped one, slinking into the cage while the rest were still discussing.

The man eyed Carl carefully as he watched him crouch down as the others had done, but instead of going closer, Carl sat down and began eating the granola bar in small bites. The man watched carefully. Carl was about half way done when he slowly held the bar out to the man and cocked his head to the side. “Want some?” he asked. The man’s eye flicked back and forth between Carl, the granola bar, and the group outside the cage, but Carl didn’t move a muscle. 

Finally, the man shifted, leaning forward as far as the chain around his next would allow him too, and reached his left hand out towards the bar. It was about an inch out of his reach. A sadness fell over the man’s face, like he was afraid Carl was going to take the food away from him. Like he was being taunted with it. But before he could withdraw, Carl leaned towards him. As soon as the bar touched his fingers, the man grabbed and devoured it.

The sound made by his movement alerted the rest of the group to what was happening, and Rick turned on his heel and started harshly whispering at Carl to  _ get back here _ . Carl waved his father off and took another granola bar from his pocket. The caged man’s eyes lit up and he watched Carl eagerly. “Glenn,” Carl said, never taking his gaze away from the man in front of him. Glenn looked up from where he stood, a questioning look on his face. “Will you go get the van and park by the front door? Open the back loading doors. Everyone else, I’m going to need you to get out of sight.”

“Carl, what—”

“Dad, I know what I’m doing. Just trust me.” He unwrapped the next granola bar and, repositioning back into a crouch, took a small step forward. The man in the cage flinched back slightly. “Please, go now.” The others looked at Rick who sighed and nodded.

“Alright. Come on,” he said, ushering the group out of the room. Once Carl couldn’t hear them anymore he took another small step forwards.

“It’s just you and me, alright? Everything is going to be ok. I’m gonna get you out of here, ok?” Carl broke the granola bar in half and held out one side to the man who reached and out and took it quickly, eating it a little slower than before. Carl dropped to his knees and inched closer to the man who watched him carefully, eyes flickering to the other half of the granola bar in Carl’s hands. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m going to get this chain off of you, and then we’re going to walk outside, ok? Does that sound good?”

Carl was about an arm and a half’s reach away from the chain when the man began growling. Carl shushed him softly and held out the other half of the bar. “Hey, come on. I just wanna help. I’m going to give this to you, but you gotta let me take this chain off, ok?” He looked the man directly in his eyes. “Ok?” The man nodded slowly and took the granola bar from Carl, taking a bite from it and watching as Carl scooted ever closer. The growling quieted when Carl’s hand touched the cold metal. The man moved his head, baring his neck, and giving Carl better access.

Holding his flashlight in his mouth, Carl raised himself up to examine how the chain was attached. He debated about trying to take the whole collar mechanism off, but upon closer inspection he could tell that the leather collar was so tight it was almost embedded into the man’s neck. Carl winced just looking at it. Instead, he went to the chain loop that was attached to the hoop connected to the collar and found that he needed to twist and pull down a section of it while also slipping it off the hoop.

“Ok, here I go,” he mumbled softly around the flashlight in his mouth as he reached up with his other hand and worked the chain mechanism. It made a soft  _ clink  _ as the chain fell away. 

There was a beat of time before Carl suddenly found himself being slammed onto his back against the metal floor, the weight of the man pressing over him. Carl’s eye grew wide and his breathing quickened. His flashlight had fallen from his mouth and only gave a thin veil of light over the man above him. The man’s face hovered slightly above Carl’s, scraggly unkempt beard almost scratching at Carl’s nose. His hot breath hit Carl face as he leaned in and sniffed at Carl’s hair and down to his neck. His left hand pressed down hard into Carl’s chest. His eyes shined in the low light. ‘ _ Oh god _ ,’ Carl thought. ‘ _ Oh god, I’m going to die. _ ’

And then, just like that, the man backed up. He stood slowly on shaky legs, standing over Carl. He cocked his head at the boy below him. Carl peered up at him in confusion before grappling for his flashlight and rising to his feet slowly, rubbing at his chest where he could still feel the heat from the man’s hand. The two stared at each other for a moment, gauging what the other might do. Reaching slowly into his pocket, Carl retrieved the last of the granola bars he had grabbed.

“Ok,” he said slowly and softly, taking a deep breath. He began to open the bar. “Ok. Are you going to come with me? I want to help you. Take you some place safe. I just need you to follow me. I will give you this, but you have to follow me. Ok? Do you understand?” 

The man narrowed his eyes at Carl as he watched him break the bar in half and offer one piece to him. He took it and nodded once before shoving it into his mouth. Carl nodded back and moved towards the door of the cage, keeping his eye on the man.

The man followed and Carl let out a breath. They made their way through the room, Carl occasionally looking back to make sure the man was following. They moved at a slow pace as the man was limping slightly and reacting to the things around him. He would stop to growl at the undead that reached for them through the bars of the cages and to gaze sadly at the unmoving dogs. Carl waited patiently for the man each time, wondering all the while what had happened here. What had this man been through?

At one point, Carl noticed his father standing in the shadows watching them. He appreciated the safety net his father was providing, but he prayed that the man did not notice Rick. Carl was unsure what kind of reaction the man would unleash.

When they entered the main room with the large pit, the man looked up at the office room and let out a low growl and spit at it. ‘ _ Good riddance, _ ’ Carl imagined him saying. They had to walk around the pit to get to the front door, and the man ran as fast as his injured body would allow him to away from it. Carl hesitated for a second before increasing his own pace to catch up. When he reached the front doors, the man took no time to pause and rammed his shoulder into the door, throwing it open.

As he stepped outside, Carl right behind him, the man covered his eyes from the bright sun. He looked around, eyes wide, and took in a deep breath. He let it out slowly and his body shifted in a way that made Carl think that the man was going to bolt and make a run for it. The van was waiting for them, back doors open, a couple of yards away and Carl thought, ‘ _ No. We’re so close. _ ’

But the man did not run. He turned to look back at Carl and cocked his head to the side. Carl nodded at him at led him to the van, giving him the other half of the granola bar once he climbed in. He closed the doors and everyone came out from behind the trees they were standing behind, weapons at the ready, and climbed into the seats in the front of the van. Carl sat in the back seat that bumped up against the back of the van so that the man could see him and so that he could see the man. He watched curiously as the man tucked himself into the farthest corner, trying to curl in on himself. Rick climbed in next to Carl and gave an apprehensive look at the man. He sighed and turned to tell Glenn to start the van. They needed to get back to Alexandria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	3. Alexandria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan arrives in Alexandria and promptly gets in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited that people are liking this story! Y'all are so great!  
> Thanks as always to my friend [Milarca](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Milarca/pseuds/Milarca) for helping my out and editing. If you like Rick/Negan you should definitely check her stuff out. It's really great!
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention in the first chapter notes, but you can find me on tumblr at ranebowstitches if you wanna chat!  
> Also also, I have a Cegan playlist that I made that sorta doesn't fit /this/ story but it fits a more "traditional" Cegan feel I guess you could say? Anyway that is here if you wanna check it out: [[xxx](https://tinyurl.com/y7nmjd38)]
> 
> Thanks again for reading!!

As soon as Glenn had cut the engine to the van, Carl jumped out and ran towards the back doors. Opening the one he knew the man wasn’t leaning against, he poked his head inside and looked over to where he had last seen him. Alas, the man wasn’t there. In the short time that Carl went from inside the van to outside the van the man had scooted back and was as far from the door as he could be. Carl huffed.

“Do NOT make me lead you out here with a trail of food,” Carl scolded gently. The man glared at him.

“What’s going on?” Rick asked as he came around the side of the van. The rest of the group had dispersed or were busy handing off the stuff they had scavenged to other Alexandrians who had come over to help. They had not found enough supplies to actually need to fill the back of the van, sadly, but the amount of food found in the abandoned building was better than nothing. A few people tried to see what was happening at the back of the van, but Rick waved them off.

“He needs to go see Denise. He’s obviously badly hurt,” Carl said, looking up at his father. Rick hummed and looked from the man to where the medic center was, calculating the easiest way to get the naked and injured man from point A to point B without causing a scene. He watched as Carl tried to coax the man out out of the van with kind words and promises of healing. Pride bloomed in his chest. He was so proud to have a son like Carl, even if he could get in over his head sometimes. A smile played on Rick’s lips.

“Hey, what’s going on?” A voice grunted next to Rick, shaking him from his thoughts. He looked over at the other man who had his bow holstered over one shoulder and a gun hanging at his hip.

“Daryl,” Rick greeted warmly. “We found this guy in a cage in an abandoned fighting ring building. It was odd - dead dogs and humans everywhere. He was the only thing alive in the place.”

Daryl let a low whistle and clicked his tongue. “Probably the top fighter of the place then.”

“Why d’ya say that?”

Daryl sniffed and looked at the van. “He was the only  _ thing _ still alive?” 

Rick nodded slowly and hummed, turning his gaze back to Carl, who had managed to get the man to crawl closer to the doors.

“He looks dangerous,” Daryl said. “Are you sure you did the right thing bringing him here?” Daryl eyed the man as he stepped out of the van. The man instantly crouched down on the ground and then whipped his head around, taking in his new surroundings while Carl stood besides him, waiting patiently.

“Carl seems to think so,” Rick said, gesturing towards him. 

Daryl eyed Carl skeptically. “So we’re running things based off the judgement of a kid now?” 

“Carl’s not a kid anymore,” Rick said, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Daryl a look. “Turned eighteen this spring.” 

Daryl held his gaze before shaking his head and letting out a short derisive hiss from between his teeth. He watched as the injured man stood slowly, still hunched slightly and in a defensive pose. The man looked ready to spring at any moment. “I still don’t like the look of him...” Daryl muttered, putting a hand against the gun at his side, pointing the barrel towards the man. The movement caught the man’s eye and he froze, eyes flickering over Daryl and the gun. A deep growl rumbled through him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Carl asked, immediately following the man’s line of sight. He scowled at Daryl. “Daryl! Lower your gun! It’s spooking him!”

Daryl scoffed, opening his mouth to retort when suddenly the wind was knocked out of his chest and his back met the hard ground. His bow flew off his shoulder and skittered over the ground out of his reach. The man loomed above him, growling deep in his chest and gnashing his teeth at Daryl. The offending gun was trapped under the man’s shin.

Daryl bucked, trying to throw the man off but to no avail. The man was bigger than Daryl and had a knee jammed into his chest, holding him solidly down. The sharp gravel bit into Daryl’s back and strong fingers tried to grab at his throat, rough nails cutting the skin on his neck. Raising his arms above his face to try and stop the onslaught of attacks, Daryl shouted. “Get this sonova bitch off me!”

The man was so focused on attacking Daryl that he didn’t notice Rick coming up behind him, nor did he notice the handle of Rick’s axe until it was jabbed roughly into the back of his head. He blacked out, falling on top of the other man. Daryl grunted and pushed him off to the side, breathing heavily. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see if the man would get back up. When he didn’t, Carl knelt next to him and looked up at his father.

“Did you kill him?” he asked, checking for a pulse on the man’s wrist. A slow beat.

“I hope so,” Daryl mumbled, standing up and retrieving his bow. 

“You're lucky he only has one good arm,” Carl snapped back at him, glaring. Daryl scoffed and stomped off.

“No, he's not dead,” Rick said, giving an apologetic look to Daryl’s retreating figure. “He’s just knocked out, which is probably what we should have done to get him here in the first place. Now, let’s get him to Denise before he wakes up.”

~~~

The pounding in the back of his head was the first thing he felt as he regained consciousness. It was slowly followed by the feeling of realization that he wasn’t laying on a cold metal surface, but on something soft. His body felt warm and stable. The sweet sound of birds chirping flowed in from somewhere above him. The smell of dust and damp earth filled his nose. He breathed in. He breathed out. He opened his eyes.

Met with the sight of bricks and a blinding light, the man blinked a few times. He sat up,  rubbing at his eyes with his uninjured hand. Assessing himself once the spots had cleared from his vision, he found himself clothed in a simple shirt and loose pants. He pinched the fabric between his fingers and rubbed his thumb over it, amazed. His right forearm was sandwiched between two hard pieces of plastic held together tightly by a bandage. He lifted it away from his body and straightened out his elbow, wincing at the slight pain, but happy that it was far less than it was before. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.

Glancing around his new location, he found that he was in some sort of small room with a shoddy bench and a door made of bars. His stomach dropped at the sight of the bars. Quickly glancing away, he noticed a glass of water sitting on the floor beside him. He grabbed it and brought the refreshing liquid to his lips, drinking greedily. It was gone much too soon.

Setting the glass back down, he bounced on the old mattress he sat upon. What a difference from the cold metal he was used to. He stood, bracing himself on the wall, and walked to one of the windows inlaid high in the wall. He was not tall enough to see out of them, but he could hear snippets of voices, and birds calling. Huffing, he turned and sat back on the mattress. Absentmindedly, his left hand went to the splint on his right arm and he scratched at where the plastic met his skin.

“Hey, don’t pick at that!” 

Flinching harshly from the sudden noise, the man whipped his head over to the door and pushed himself up against the wall, eyes wide. He willed his beating heart to slow as he realized it was the boy who had helped him. The boy who  _ kept _ helping him. His shoulders fell as the tension left them.

“That splint is going to help your arm get better,” the boy said. “Denise said the bone was broken but it hadn’t sliced through the skin, which is good. She also cleaned all your open wounds so don’t pick at those bandages either,” he explained through the door as he dug around in his pocket, shifting the lunchbox he was holding from one hand to the other. Pulling out a thick key, the boy glanced around him before inserting it into the door’s lock. He looked up at him. “I’m coming in now, alright?” The man’s eyebrows drew together.

The boy entered the room, closing the door but keeping it about an inch ajar. He walked slowly over to the man, sitting down in front of him about a couple feet away. He was gauging the man’s reactions the entire time, but the man didn’t look frightened at all. Just curious.

Reaching into the lunch box, the boy pulled out a tupperware bowl of warm rice and chicken. He pulled the lid off of it and placed it in front of the man before digging back through the box. “I brought you some food. Here’s a… spoon.” Before he could even hand the utensil to the man, the man had already picked up the bowl and was shoveling the food into his mouth with his left hand, balancing the bowl on his injured one.

The boy chuckled and put the spoon back in the box, removing a thermos and refilling the glass of water sitting on the ground near him. With little grace, the man dropped the empty bowl and grabbed at the water. He held the glass out to Carl when it was empty and Carl refilled it again. He drank slower this time, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm when he was done. Setting the glass down, he watched as the boy packed up the bowl and thermos.

“That’s all I brought with me. Sorry. But as soon as you’re out of here, don’t worry, you’ll be able to eat and drink pretty much whenever you want,” the boy explained, giving the man a small smile. “I mean we have food, but not an overabundance, you know?” 

The man narrowed his eyes slightly at the boy as he snapped the latches on the lunchbox closed.

The boy looked around the room and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “So, um, I’m sorry my dad knocked you out,” he started. “But we couldn’t have you attacking Daryl, ya know? I told them you were just scared, and obviously you’ve been through a lot. We don’t really know what that building we found you in was for. Rosita and my dad think it was some kind of fighting ring, but I’m not sure. I’m sure you can tell us, but it’s alright if you don’t want too.” He waved his hand in the air nonchalantly.

The man hummed and settled back on the mattress, leaning against the wall. 

“Oh! Sorry. I’m rambling. I can stop.” The boy grinned bashfully. The man shook his head. He hadn't minded the boy talking. He much prefered it over silence anyway.

The boy smiled softly and his cheeks pinked. 

“I’m Carl, by the way,” the boy said. Carl. The man noticed Carl fiddling with his fingers after introducing himself, like he was debating doing something with his hand but ultimately decided against it. “Do you have a name?” Carl watched as the man’s eye glazed over for a moment before his left hand went up to his throat where the leather collar was still cutting into his throat. His fingers passed over it softly and he tilted his head up, exposing his neck towards Carl for the second time. Carl’s eyebrows knitted as he leaned forward. Something was burned into the leather.

“N.. E.. G--Neg—Negan? Is that your name?” Carl asked, leaning back. The man dropped his hand from his throat and focused his eyes on Carl’s. They both stared at each other for a beat. “Negan,” Carl said. Negan smirked.

Carl cleared his throat. “We were going to get that collar off, by the way, but I think your body had other plans ‘cause when Denise was looking at it you tried to grab her in your sleep.” 

Negan’s eyebrows raised up slightly. 

Carl chuckled. “It really shook her, so she just left it alone. But, you know, if you want it off we can get it off.” 

Negan reached up to touch the collar again, feeling the hard leather. It didn’t hurt anymore. Not like when it was first put on him. He’d gotten so used to it; it was almost a part of him now. He took a deep breath in. He let a deep breath out.

Suddenly, Carl’s name was being called somewhere in the distance and the boy scrambled to collect his stuff, promising to get Negan out of the room as soon as he could. He closed and locked the door behind him, giving one last glance to Negan before rushing off. Negan frowned as he watched the boy leave. He was starting to really like Carl’s company. Turning to curl up on the makeshift bed, and careful not to lay on his injured arm, Negan closed his eyes. There was not much else to do but sleep and wonder when the kid would come back.


	4. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan observed his surroundings with wide, curious eyes, breath taken away. Everything was so beautiful, and yet so strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait!
> 
> I want to give a shout out to the story "[Back To Humanity](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10732467/chapters/23785461)". If you enjoy this story, you should check out that one cause it inspired me to write for the same trope.  
> Though because of this, there was a little upset on tumblr over me writing this that caused the delay in this chapter but it has been resolved peacefully and I apologize for the wait !! Thanks for those who have stuck with me!
> 
> I would like to update once a week, but with my work schedule I think it might be like every two weeks depending, just fyi! I think about this story everyday and don't plan on abandoning it at all!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

“Dad, we have to let him out. He can’t stay locked up in the jail forever.” Carl crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his father. “I rescued him and all we’ve done is take him from one cage and put him in another!” Rick crossed his own arms and frowned. 

The two stood eyeing each other up in the living room, almost toe to toe. Rick’s gaze flicked away from his son to Michonne, who was sitting on the couch with Judith in her lap. She shrugged at him, silently telling him that this was his fight and she would have no part in it. Carl had been pestering him about letting the man out of the cell since the moment they put him in there, but this time he could tell Carl was on his last straw. Rick looked back to his son who had knitted his eyebrows together and was tapping his foot agitatedly.

“Where do you expect him to stay?” Rick asked, knowing full well what his son’s answer would be. 

“With us. Here.” Yup. Just like he thought. Rick saw Michonne’s head move from the corner of his eye as she looked over at Carl slowly.

“Excuse me?” She said, raising an eyebrow and snorting out an incredulous laugh. “You want him to live where?” She hugged Judith closer to her.

Carl uncrossed his arms and pointed to the ceiling. “We have the extra room in the attic. It would be perfect for him.” 

Michonne eyed him wearily, looking back to Rick for  _ his _ answer.

“We don’t know what he’s capable of or if he’s even stable enough to interact with others,” Rick said, voice rising slightly in volume. He shook his head. “He attacked Daryl for barely having a gun on him - Carl,  _ everyone  _ here wears a gun.” He gestured towards the pistol on Carl’s own hip and lifted his jacket to show his. Carl’s eyes flicked to Michonne’s sword hanging above the fireplace and back to his father. He huffed in annoyance, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“He was scared and didn’t know any better,” Carl said. “You know you’d react the same way if you were in his position.” His voice rose slightly. 

Rick exhaled slowly but didn’t drop his eyes. They both knew Carl was right.

A moment passed between the two before Carl said, his voice softer,  “I’ll explain everything to him. I’ll teach him what he needs to know to live here.” His one eye locked with his father’s and Rick could feel himself crumbling. He groaned and rubbed at his temples.

“Why does it have to be  _ you _ ?”

“Negan trusts me, Dad,” Carl said matter-of-factly, tilting his chin up. 

“Now that’s—Wait, Negan? He has a name now?”

“Uh…” Carl tilted his head down, hiding beneath the brim of his hat, his hands fidgety. “I may have visited him once or twice and learned a few things.” Though, their visits were mostly just Carl bringing Negan food and promising to get him out. Negan still hadn’t spoken and Carl had to be careful about not getting caught visiting, especially since he had to swipe the key and put it back every time. The less time it was missing the better.

“Of course ya did…” Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and ignored the snort of laughter from Michonne next to him. “And what happens  _ when _ he attacks someone else and we don’t get him off in time? What if he attacks Judith?” 

Judith looked up at her name being said and tilted her head at Carl. Carl looked back at her, feeling a pull in his stomach at the thought of any harm coming to her. He blinked his eye rapidly to push away the wetness he felt building and pulled in a deep breath. He steeled his face and straightened his back.

“He won’t, but I’ll take full responsibility for anything he does.” 

“Anything?” Rick arched an eyebrow.

“Everything.”

The two stared at each other, Rick searching his son’s eye and seeing nothing but determination. Frankly, Rick was surprised Carl hadn’t just let the man, Negan, out himself by now, and he knew if he kept refusing that it would be the next idea in Carl’s mind. Then he’d probably have to deal with Carl trying to hide the man in the house, and he was not about to play that game. Rick let out a deep sigh and ran his hand down his face. “Fine.  _ Fine _ .”

“Really?” Carl cried, surprised, letting go of the breath he’d been holding.

Rick nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose again. Carl was going to be the death of him. 

Carl beamed at him. 

“But—” He pointed to his son sternly, “you’re in charge of him and have to clean up after him. You get that?”

“ _ Yes _ .” Carl nodded excitedly and rushed to the front door.

“Hold up!” Rick shouted after him. “I want to talk to him before _ I _ let him out.” He heard Carl throwback something about meeting him there and then the front door slammed. Rick sighed and shook his head. The floor creaked slightly as Michonne got up and made her way to him. She put a warm hand on his shoulder, shifting Judith to her hip. Rick reached out and brushed his daughter’s soft hair, earning giggles from her.

“You know,” Michonne said with a smile, squeezing Rick’s shoulder softly. “Normal kids beg their parents for a puppy.”

Rick snorted. “Since when is  _ anything  _ normal around here?”

 

~~

“Negan!” Carl’s shoes tapped lightly against the ground as he bolted down the hall to the cell, sliding to a stop in front of the door. Leaning against the bars, he searched the room, which was growing dark as the sun outside faded below the horizon. He spotted Negan in the corner of the room, huddled on the mattress and picking at a bandage on his arm. “Negan!” The man flinched and slapped his hand over the bandage, trying to hide what he had been doing, and looked up at Carl with guilty eyes. Carl chuckled at him. “Negan, my dad agreed to let you out!” he said excitedly.

Negan perked up at that and made his way over to the door. He crouched down in front of the bars so that he was just under Carl’s height and peered up at him, cocking his head to the side. Carl grinned at him. 

“He’ll be here any minute. You’re going to live with us,” he explained. Negan’s eyes grew slightly and he inched closer to the bars. “Now, I promised I’d be responsible for you. I know you’re not a kid and don’t need someone watching over you. You’re smarter than everyone’s giving you credit for, but my dad still doesn’t trust you. Can you at least give me your word that you won’t attack anyone? No one here is going to try to hurt you. Trust me.”

Negan scoffed and looked away from him, running his good hand through his dark shaggy hair. Carl gazed down at him, gripping onto one of the bars in front of him. “Trust me, Negan. Please,” he said softly, tilting his head at the man and giving him his best pleading face. Negan huffed and looked back at him. Nothing malicious could be read in Carl’s body language, nor in his one blue eye that stared back at the other. 

Negan hummed. Reaching up, he wrapped his left hand around Carl’s that was still gripping the bar, his large hand engulfing the boy’s. 

_God, his hand is warm,_ Carl thought as he sucked in a breath and looked from Negan’s face to their hands and back again. Negan stared at him for a moment before he gave a curt nod. Carl grinned. “Thank you.”

Footsteps sounded behind him, and Carl turned to see his father walking towards them, stern expression on his face. Negan immediately let go of Carl’s hand, retreating back into the cell. Carl moved aside to let his father stand in his place. The key that Carl had been sneaking off with was in Rick’s hand. He walked up to the door and looked down at Negan. Negan’s chest rumbled in a growl. Rick watched as the man rose, menacingly slow, till he was standing at his full height. Rick’s eyes widened a hair as he had to look up at Negan and Negan smirked down at him.

“Alright, now this is how it is,” Rick said. “Carl might trust you to behave, but I don’t.” 

Negan’s eyes flicked to Carl standing behind Rick. Carl gave a ‘cut-it-out’ motion with his hand and pointed towards his throat. Negan stopped growling and looked back to Rick. 

“I’m going to be watching you. If you step one toe out of line, or touch one hair on his or anyone else's head, you are out of here  _ immediately _ . No warning, no supplies. Just out. Do you understand me?” Rick’s eyes were flinty as he locked eyes with the other man. Negan leaned the upper half of his body backwards and pushed his hips forward. He looked up at the ceiling like he was thinking about Rick’s proposition deeply. He hummed and scratched at his unkempt beard. Carl covered his mouth to try and hide a laugh.

“ _ Do you. Understand. Me _ .” Rick bit out not giving Carl the satisfaction of a glance back. “I won’t repeat myself. This is the only chance you’re getting to walk out on your own.” He pointed towards the door for emphasis as Negan looked back at him. Both men stared at each other, faces scowling and stony. They both knew that if Negan wanted out of the cell there was only once choice he had. With a huff, Negan nodded.

~~

As soon as the door opened, Negan was at Carl’s side and he didn’t leave it as they made their way outside. The sun was just about set, but it was a cool autumn evening that they stepped out to. There were a few people walking around outside, but not many. Negan tensed when he spotted the first person and Carl calmly took hold of his good wrist. Negan’s head whipped around towards Carl at the contact, but he didn’t flinch away.

“C’mon, the house is this way,” Carl said, giving Negan a small smile and a slight tug. Negan followed without further prompting, allowing himself to be led down the street. The trees that lined the road and bracketed the houses were turning beautiful oranges and reds. In the low light they seemed to glow like oil lamps. A crisp breeze blew past causing the trees to shiver. The leaves made a soft  _ shh  _ sound, a few breaking from their branches and floating to the ground where they waited to be stepped on and crunched.

Negan observed his surroundings with wide, curious eyes, breath taken away. Everything was so beautiful, and yet so strange. He growled at anything that seemed threatening (a parked car, a squirrel, Glenn) but each time Carl gently squeezed his wrist and he would quiet.

When they reached the house, Negan gazed up at it in wonder. He hadn’t noticed that Carl had let go of him until he heard his name being called. 

“C’mon, Negan.” Carl stood at the front door, holding it open and waiting. Negan followed quickly, taken over with more wonder as he entered the house and was met with items that were so familiar and yet so new. 

“This way. I’ll show you around!” 

Negan took hold of the end of Carl’s shirt sleeve as he showed him around the living room and the connected dining room and kitchen. Carl smiled at the gesture, his cheeks going slightly pink. 

Negan poked and prodded at different odds and ends that were set about the place, never letting go of Carl in the process. It turned into Negan leading Carl around as he tugged him towards things he wanted to see. Carl told him the names of things that he shoved into his face (a magazine, a DVD, a candle) all of which he dropped without a care afterwards.

Just as he was reaching for a glass vase, Michonne, with Judith on her hip, stepped into the room. She watched them for a moment, eyebrow raised at the scraggly man. 

When he noticed them, Negan immediately straightened up and tugged on Carl’s sleeve. Carl tugged back and led him closer to the girls.

“Michonne, Judith, this is Negan. Negan, this is Michonne and Judith,” Carl said, gesturing towards them. “They live here too. Judith is my sister, and Michonne is my… step-mom?” Carl and Michonne both looked off put at the title, shaking their heads at each other. “Uh, my dad’s girlfriend?”

“Better,” Michonne said.  “Hi.” She looked at him cautiously and glanced to Carl. Negan’s nose wrinkled slightly. But then his eyes strayed to Judith, who was staring back at him. 

He leaned closer to her and Michonne tightened her grip on the little girl. Carl gave her a pleading look. She gave him a look back but didn’t move away as Negan got closer and sniffed at Judith’s hair. He then moved down to gaze into her eyes at her level. The man and child stared at each other for a moment before Judith giggled and reached out, clapping a hand to Negan’s cheek and scratching at his beard. Negan growled in his throat and Carl and Michonne tensed, but before they could do anything Negan grinned and turned his head, licking Judith’s palm. She screeched in laughter and pulled her hand away, flailing. Negan snickered and leaned away, looking back at Carl who was gazing at him in wonder. Judith reached for him again, but Michonne held her back, bouncing her slightly.

“Well, if Judith approves then that’s all there is to it, huh?” Michonne said with a small, stiff smile. Carl nodded and smiled at Negan.

“Yeah,” he said, still trying to wrap his mind around who the man was. Negan was sticking his tongue out at Judith and making her giggle.

“Where’s your dad, by the way, Carl?” Michonne asked. Carl looked around, just now realizing that Rick wasn’t with them.

“I don’t know. He was following us when we left,” he answered, shrugging.

“Well, he better get back soon. He promised he’d help me with dinner.” Rolling her eyes, Michonne started to make her way towards the kitchen where a pot was bubbling on the stove. The smell of spices wafted through the air as she lifted the lid to examine it. “Why don’t you show Negan upstairs and I’ll call you when it’s done?” 

Carl nodded and tugged Negan along via his hand still holding Carl’s sleeve.

Once upstairs, Carl pointed out the bathroom, Judith’s room, a closet, and the door that led to the attic. “That’s where you’ll be staying,” he said, opening the door and pointing up the stairs. “We’ll have to get you a bed, though. There’s not much up there, but you’ll be free to keep whatever you want in there.” Negan eyed the stairs and the darkness that they led too, but he nodded and hummed. Carl closed the door and turned towards the last room. He swung the door open and flicked the lights on. “And this is my room.”

As soon as Negan stepped into the room, he sucked in a breath of surprise. Looking down, he wiggled his bare toes in the soft pile of the carpet that covered the floor. It was so squishy. He grinned down at it and then over at Carl who snorted back a laugh and tried to hide the blush on his cheeks. Carl was slowly getting used to the other man’s antics, but he couldn’t lie, they were damn cute.

Letting go of Carl’s sleeve, Negan began exploring the room. He picked up and dropped the knick knacks that were sitting on the dressers and ran his hand over the colorful posters on the walls. Carl followed a little bit behind, picking up and straightening everything Negan touched. There was a small bookshelf next to a plush armchair in the corner of the room opposite the bed. A bookmarked book sat on the small table next to the chair, and Negan picked it up and flicked it open. The strange symbols meant nothing to him though, so he dropped it and moved to the bed. Carl huffed at the thunk of the book on the floor and frowned at the sight of his bookmark floating to the ground.

Crouching down to pick it up, he felt Negan suddenly looming over him. Looking up at him, he saw that Negan had one of his bed pillows clutched in his hands. The man brought the pillow to his face and inhaled deeply. Carl raised an eyebrow at him. Throwing the pillow aside, Negan dropped down to his knees. Carl flinched backwards, falling to his butt, and scooted back till he was pressed against the armchair. Negan crawled towards him, eyes shining.

“N-Negan?” Carl’s breath picked up as the man came closer, but he didn’t try to move away. Despite all the red flags going off in his mind, he couldn’t seem to get his body to react. Negan’s face was directly in front of his, eyes locked. Something was swimming in the man’s deep eyes, but Carl couldn’t place it.

Then, abruptly, the man’s face moved down. Carl felt the tip of Negan’s nose skate along his jaw back towards his ear. He gasped. The touch was so tender. When he reached Carl’s ear, Negan nudged it with his nose, asking a silent question. The younger felt his mouth curve into a smile at the soft gesture and tilted his head slightly away, allowing the man room to nuzzle his face into Carl’s hair right behind his ear. Carl heard the sound of Negan breathing in deeply and felt a shiver run through his body.

And then, just like that, Negan backed up, grabbed the pillow from the place he’d dropped it earlier and smelled it again. He nodded to himself while Carl sat stunned and staring at him, face completely red and breath still coming in quick intervals. His eyebrows were knitted in confusion.

“What the hell—?” he started, but was interrupted as Michonne called up from downstairs. It was time for dinner. 

“Coming!” Carl called back to her, watching as Negan actually replaced the pillow on his bed. The man was gently trying to position it back the way it used to be resting against the headboard. He looked pleased with himself once he was done.

Carl took a deep breath and stood, trying to calm down his beating heart. “Ok, well…” He wiped his palms down his shirt and straightened his hat. “It’s time for dinner, and you can’t be doing any of...” he made some flustered hand motions towards Negan and then to his neck. “...at the table. Got it?” He pointed at Negan in what he hoped was a threatening manner. 

Negan just rolled his eyes and leaned back. 

“I  _ mean it _ . My dad will kick you out if he sees that, and neither of us want that, right?” 

Negan looked back at him and nodded, concern on his features. He walked up to Carl and took his sleeve in his hand again, tugging on it gently. A small whine came from the older man’s throat. Carl sighed and gave him a small smile. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Just behave yourself and you’ll be fine. Now, come on. Let’s go eat.”


	5. I Brought Him Home and I Fed Him Spaghetti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan gets a hot meal and a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for how long this chapter took. I work 6 days a week and most of the time when I come home I pass out, so my writing time is actually very limited. I hope this chapter makes up for the time tho because it's pretty long and full of fluff and I just hope you like it!
> 
> HUGE SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIEND [MILARCA](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Milarca/pseuds/Milarca) FOR EDITING THIS STORY I WOULD BE NOTHING WITHOUT HER

_ Fresh biscuits and oregano _ , Carl thought, sniffing the air as he and Negan reached the bottom of the stairs.  _ Must be spaghetti night.  _ They made their way into the dining room where Rick was placing Judith into her highchair at the head of the table and Michonne was placing a large pot of sauce covered noodles on the table.  _ More than usual _ , Carl noted as he eyed the noodles.

At the sound of footsteps behind him, Rick glanced up at his son and then at the man who was trailing along next to him. His eyes casted down to where Negan was holding onto Carl’s sleeve, and he frowned minutely.

“Hey, dad,” Carl said, waving. Rick nodded at him. “Where did you go earlier? After we left the jail?” he  asked, making his way towards his father. Rick clicked the belt of the highchair around Judith before turning to his son.

“I was making sure... Negan... had a bed to sleep on,” Rick said, gesturing towards the other man. 

Negan raised an eyebrow at him and Carl tilted his head in question. 

“Jesus and Daryl are going to be dropping off a mattress in about an hour,” Rick continued. “We can move it to the attic when they get here.” 

Rick crossed his arms over his chest, not looking particularly happy about this news, but doing his best to stay civil.

“Oh!” Carl’s eyebrows raised and he gave a small smile. “Thanks dad.” 

Rick gave a nod before leaning down next to him.

“It might be wise to be somewhere else when they come,” he said quietly. “I don’t want another… incident... with Daryl.” He gave Carl a heavy look before straightening back up. 

Carl hummed and nodded, casting a glance to Negan who was sticking his tongue out at Judith and making her laugh. It had been a couple days, but Carl was sure that Negan remembered Daryl and probably wouldn’t react very well to him again. The fear that Negan would attack someone and Carl wouldn’t have the power to talk him off or physically pull him off raced through Carl’s mind. Looking up the man, who was at least a whole head taller than him, made Carl shiver. Negan looked down at him and cocked his head to the side, giving him a small smile. Carl smiled back.

Rick made his way to the opposite side of the table, sitting down next to Michonne and Judith. Michonne passed him a plate with spaghetti and a biscuit already cut into very small pieces on it, and Rick placed it on Judith’s highchair tray. Judith giggled and grabbed at the slimy noodles before Rick had the chance to give her a small fork. He sighed and shook his head, smile on his face, as he took her hand and eased the fork into it. She looked at it like it’d offended her and her family, and promptly dropped it on the ground. Rick sighed again and picked up the fork, wiping it off and giving it back. 

“Well, dig in,” Michonne said, gesturing to Carl and then to the food on the table. Carl tugged Negan closer to the table.

“Come on, you can sit next to me,” he told him, shaking the man’s grip from his sleeve as he moved to pull his chair out from the table. Carl sat down, and, when he realized Negan hadn’t followed, looked back at him. Negan stood still, looking between everyone and then the chair next to Carl. Carl’s brows drew together and he pointed to the chair next him, reiterating that  _ that  _ was Negan’s spot and, yes, he could sit down. When Negan still didn’t move, Carl shrugged slightly, eyeing him curiously.

Reaching over, Carl took Negan’s plate and placed it next to his. He reached forward to scoop some spaghetti onto both plates. The smell of tomatoes and spices filled his nose and his stomach growled. He added an extra scoop to his helping and then placed a biscuit on the edge of each plate. 

Looking back at Negan, Carl huffed. He was still standing there, looking contemplative, uninjured hand lightly touching the collar around his neck. Carl was about to offer help in pulling out the other chair when Negan suddenly dropped to the floor. Everyone at the table flinched back as Negan crawled forward, sitting himself between Carl and the chair that he was supposed to sit in. On his knees, he sat eye level with the table, and he eyed his plate of noodles hungrily.

“Uh, Negan?” Carl asked softly, his hand hovering over the man’s shoulder. The look of hunger on Negan’s face was intense as he stared at the spaghetti. Carl could feel his father’s eyes on him, but he refused to look up. Negan’s eyes flicked over to Carl for a second but he was focused in on reaching up to grab his plate off the table. 

“You can sit in the chair, you know?” Carl pointed at the chair again, but Negan just brought his plate down and sniffed at it, eyeing the meatballs hungrily. He smiled a toothy grin and dug in.

The wet sounds of Negan messily devouring his meal were the only thing breaking the silence that fell over the table. Carl stared as he watched the man balance the plate on his injured arm and shovel spaghetti into his mouth with his other hand, smearing the sauce all over his face in the process. Carl brought his hand to his mouth and tried and failed to hold in his laughter at the absurdness of the situation. Rick and Michonne couldn’t see Negan, as he had ducked his head down below the table to eat, but they could hear the slurps and smacks of noodles being consumed loud and clear. They all paused for a beat until Rick set down his forkful of noodles and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Carl…” he said tiredly. Carl looked at him and immediately stopped his laughter. Rick gave him a look.

“I know, I know,” Carl said, holding his hands up. “It’s his first day here, dad. He’ll learn,” He stabbed his fork into his own plate of spaghetti and twirled the noodles around the tines. He hummed in satisfaction as the food touched his tongue. 

“This is really good,” he said to Michonne.

Michonne smiled at him. “It’s just Prego.” 

Rick snorted at that and Michonne’s lips twitched. Carl chuckled. 

They all ate for a few minutes before Carl felt a tap on his thigh. He looked down to see Negan poking him softly with the plate that he had licked clean. Negan tilted his head in question.

“You want more?” Carl asked, and Negan nodded, grinning. Carl had to stop himself from laughing again at the older man’s sauce covered face and beard as he took his empty plate and piled on more spaghetti. He turned to give it back to Negan - the other man’s hands were out - but stopped short. Negan frowned and whined, looking up at Carl in confusion.

“Negan, can you sit in the chair for me?” Carl asked, gesturing to the chair again. He felt weird talking to Negan like a child, but he didn’t know how else to ask nicely. Negan glanced at it but shook his head. He scooted closer to Carl, wrapping a hand around his ankle, and stared up at him. Carl inhaled sharply, not sure what Negan was was trying to convey. It almost looked like fear swam behind his pleading eyes. Carl just sighed. He ignored the looks from the other adults in the room and handed Negan his new plate of spaghetti. “Alright, just for now, but this isn’t a permanent spot, got it?” 

Negan grinned and dove into his noodles. Carl wasn’t sure if that answered his question or not.

Judith giggled from her spot at the head of the table. She banged her fork on her tray a couple of times before dropping it off the edge. It clattered to the ground. Rick leaned over to grab it off the floor, wiping it off with his napkin. He was about to hand it back to her when suddenly Judith reached out and grabbed the biggest handful of spaghetti her tiny hand could hold. 

“No---!” Rick cried helplessly before she smashed it into her mouth, getting about half of it in there and half in her lap and all of it over her face. Rick sighed. Michonne and Carl chuckled. Negan ate his biscuit.

~~

Carl was helping bring the dishes from the table to the sink, Negan following him back and forth, when there was a knock on the door. Everyone looked towards it. It had to be Jesus and Daryl. No one else was scheduled to visit and random house calls didn’t really happen.  Rick, who was finishing wiping off Judith’s face with a washcloth, casted a pointed glance over to Carl. Carl nodded and turned towards Negan. The man still had sauce all over his face and his hands which gave Carl an idea. “Hey, let’s go get you cleaned up, huh? Come on,” he said, holding out his hand to the older man. He made a face when he realized that he just invited pasta sauce onto his being, but Negan just took his sleeve gently and followed Carl upstairs to the bathroom.

Once inside, Carl closed the door and gestured for Negan to sit on the closed toilet seat. Negan did as he was told, looking up at Carl and watching as the younger man grabbed a washcloth and began wetting it in the sink. Carl grabbed a bar of soap and lathered it into the cloth before squeezing out the excess water. Turning towards Negan, he stepped closer and held out his hand. “Let me have your hand first,” he said softly. Negan put his left hand in Carl’s, palm up. 

Carl began running the washcloth over Negan’s sauce covered fingers gently. He focused on each digit, softly scrubbing each one with care. He worked the cloth between his fingers and under his nails, determined to get every inch clean. Negan watched Carl’s hands work on his, humming softly at the feeling, eyes falling half closed. 

As the layer of sauce came off, a layer of grime was also lifted, and scars were revealed on his cleaned skin. Carl frowned as he noticed them. They were focused mainly around his knuckles but were littered across the back of his hand as well. Running his thumb over the scars, Carl didn’t notice he had stopped washing Negan’s hand until the man whined and pulled his hand back, clutching it close to his chest.

“Oh!” Carl started. “Oh, sorry. I - uh, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He watched as Negan examined his now clean hand, gazing at his own scars with disdain. Carl coughed awkwardly and asked for Negan’s other hand. Negan plopped it into Carl’s hand. This one was a lot less dirty as it had the splint on it and wasn’t used to eat with, but Carl cleaned off the layer of dirt that was settled on it anyway, being careful not to twist his arm in any way that could hurt it.

Carl gave Negan back his right hand and re-wet and soaped the washcloth before moving back to him. “Ok, look up at me,” he said softly. Negan tilted his chin up at him and only flinched a little bit as the washcloth touched his face. Carl scrubbed softly but with vigor. Pasta sauce was ingrained in the scraggly salt and pepper hairs of his beard and Carl was determined to get it out. 

Scattered around his jaw were patches where his beard didn’t grow anymore because of thick scars slicing through it. Some of them still looked fairly fresh. Carl stuck his tongue out in concentration as he tried to wash around them. Negan smiled at him softly. Carl worked around that smile as he maneuvered around Negan’s face.

When he came up towards his right eye, Carl noticed a small scar there that seemed older than the others. Perhaps it was inflicted before Negan was wrapped up in whatever he had been in. Perhaps it happened before the world went to shit.

Negan hummed and nudged Carl’s hand with his nose when Carl stopped moving. Carl blinked and sighed. “Sorry, I just---I keep thinking…” He trailed off, frowning. Negan butted his hand with his head, rubbing at it like a cat wanting to be pet. Carl chuckled and ran his fingers through Negan’s dark hair. He pulled his hand away with disgust. Negan whined.

“Your hair is super greasy, dude,” Carl chuckled, wiping his hand on his pants. His eyes flickered up at the bathtub behind Negan and then back down at the man who probably hadn’t been cleaned in years and was only now receiving any kind of treatment. Denise had cleaned his wounds when she bandaged them, but she didn’t do more than that. Then, he sat for a couple days in the jail. Carl made a face between pity and anger. A hot shower should have been the first thing he offered the man.

“You know, a shower would be good for you,” he said, gesturing behind Negan. Negan turned to look at the tub. “But I don’t think you can get your splint wet. Um, how about a hot bath?” Negan looked back at Carl and nodded, grin on his clean face.

Carl had to help Negan get his shirt off past his injured arm, but he let Negan get the rest after that. When Carl first found Negan, his nudity hadn’t bugged him. Truthfully, he’d barely noticed it as he was much more focused on saving the man at the time. But now that he had been clothed and was acting less like an animal and more like a human, Carl found himself immensely interested in trying to get the bath water the perfect temperature as Negan undressed.

“Alright, how’s that feel?” Carl asked once the tub was almost full. He avoided glancing up as Negan stepped one foot into the tub wholeheartedly and wiggled his toes. His other foot followed quickly. The splint on his arm made it so that he couldn’t brace himself on the edge of the tub, so Carl stood from where was crouched next to the tub and offered his arm out to Negan to take so he could lower himself easier. Negan sighed as he sank into the warm water. Carl reminded Negan to keep the splint out of the water and shut off the faucet. 

Negan hung his injured arm over the side of the tub, and Carl sat down on the tub edge behind him. He watched as the man stretched his legs out in the water, splashing it with his feet, before he bent his knees up and leaned backwards. It was a slightly awkward angle, what with one arm sticking out of the water, but Negan managed to submerge himself for a few seconds, blowing bubbles out of his nose, before coming back up and shaking his hair out like a dog.

“Oh! Hey!” Carl laughed, putting his hands up in an attempt to stop the spray of water from hitting him. Negan looked at Carl with a shock of fear before hearing his laugh and relaxing. He smirked and shook his head again. Water droplets went everywhere. “Alright, alright!” Carl wiped at his face with his shirt sleeve as Negan chuckled. Carl mock glared at him, but his look softened when he saw how Negan’s shoulders were hanging loose, tension gone, and his face held a genuine smile. His eyes were tender as he gazed up at the younger. Carl could read a ‘thank you’ in the man’s expression and it made his heart skip a beat.

“Alright, let’s get you clean, hm?” Carl spoke softly as he reached behind Negan to the opposite side of the tub to grab his own shampoo from the rack attached to the wall. Negan watched as Carl squirted some of the goo into his palm and then rubbed his hands together. “Alright, I’m going to touch you now, ok? Try not to move,” Carl said, moving his hands slowly towards Negan. The elder didn’t even flinch as Carl began working the shampoo into his wet hair.

Carl’s deft fingers massaged through the oil and grime that had built up in Negan’s dark locks. He scrubbed at the roots, scratching softly against his scalp, working his way to the ends. A low pleased hum rumbled out from Negan’s chest.  Gingerly, Carl got all the knots out that he could, whispering sorry every time he had to pull hard. The darkness of his hair had hidden a lot of the muck, but it surfaced quickly. Clumps of dirt were worked out. Clumps of blood were worked out. Negan closed his eyes and let Carl maneuver his head however he needed to in order to really clean it up.

Suds were not appearing in Negan’s hair no matter how much Carl scrubbed, so he knew he’d have to wash it twice just to be certain it was as clean as could be. He debated about having Negan dunk his head under the water again to wash out the first round of shampoo, but had another idea. He got up and made his way to the sink where a plastic cup sat. Carl used it to collect water to wash his mouth out when he brushed his teeth, but it would work for rinsing out Negan’s hair as well. He sat back down on the rim of the tub and began taking scoops of water and dumping it over Negan’s head. Pressing the edge of one hand against Negan’s forehead, Carl blocked the water from going into his eyes, instincts from giving Judith a bath kicking in. The water in the tub was starting to turn a slight shade of light brown. Carl wondered if he’d have to drain and refill it, not really wanting to go through the hassle but not wanting Negan to bathe in dirty water.

Once Negan’s hair was rinsed, Carl reapplied shampoo to his hands and went in again. This time suds appeared almost as soon as he started scrubbing. He repeated his washing method, getting out the last of the knots in the process, and rinsed it when he was done.

“Ok, now conditioner. This will make your hair really soft like mine,” Carl explained as he switched the shampoo bottle for the conditioner. Negan looked over at Carl and reached his injured hand up towards the younger’s face. Carl froze in confusion, but smiled when he realized Negan was reaching to touch his hair. He leaned down slightly to give him a better angle, letting his hair fall forward. Negan ran his fingers through it, humming appreciatively. It was soft as silk. The two sat like that for a moment before Negan let his hand fall and turned his own hair back to Carl.

Carl applied the conditioner slower than the shampoo, really working it in and also trying to make it feel good for Negan. Based on the soft hums and moans Negan was making, Carl thought he was doing a pretty good job.

“Alright, all done,” Carl said, rinsing out the last of the conditioner.  Negan reached up to feel his hair, amazed that he could run his fingers through it smoothly. The dark strands felt like satin between his fingers. There were no clumps of dirt, no blood, no knots. Just clean, clean hair. Carl chuckled as he watched Negan lift some of his hair to his nose and smell it. It smelled like fruit.  _ Strawberries?  _ He licked it. It did not taste taste like fruit. Carl shook his head in amusement, and he put the conditioner bottle back where it belonged.

“Alright, let’s wash your body off now, yeah? Can you hand me that…?” Carl pointed towards the mesh bath pouf that was hanging on a hook on the opposite end of the tub. Negan followed the pointing finger to the pouf and reached for it gladly. It was soft yet scratchy in his hand and he ran his fingers over it in amazement. What a wonderful feeling. He handed it to Carl when he asked for it, watching as the boy dunked it in the tub water and then applied soap to it. “Ok,” Carl said, setting the soap down. “I’m going to start with your arms.”

Since it was closest to him, Carl started with Negan’s injured arm. He scrubbed in circles with the pouf starting at his shoulder and working down to his elbow. The splint stopped him there, but it was better than nothing. Carl wondered when the last time Negan got clean was. The apocalypse had been raging for more than a few years now. Could it have been that long?

Negan shivered at the feeling of the scrubbing on his skin and closed his eyes again. The soap smelled floral.  _ Lilacs _ . Negan couldn’t remember the last time he had ever smelled actual lilacs, nor could he remember what they looked like, but something in the back of his mind told him that was what the was scent and he accepted it. The specific mix of floral and fruit aroma that flooded Negan’s nose made him shudder. It was Carl’s smell.

As Carl moved the pouf from one shoulder to the other, asking Negan to turn slightly, he avoided the collar still clamped around Negan’s neck. He wasn’t sure how sensitive it was and didn’t want to risk hurting Negan on accident. He scrubbed at his left arm, coming to a couple bandages that were peeling off due to the water contact and because they’d been on for a while now. Carl went ahead and removed them fully. The injuries under them were healing nicely. The wounds were closed and either scabbed over or already turning into pink scars. Carl scrubbed over them gently.

Reapplying more soap, Carl moved to Negan’s back, removing more bandages as he went. Negan had opened his eyes by this point and was looking around the tub area. This was mainly Carl’s bathroom as Rick and Michonne used the one attached to their room downstairs, but a few of Judith’s things had found their way into this tub. Negan examined a small toy fish, watching it float and trying to make it sink by slapping it under the water repeatedly.

As Carl came around to wash his chest, Negan had to lean back, and he chuffed out a laugh when Carl got to his stomach. Carl’s face turned bright red and he didn’t venture lower. He added more soap to the pouf and asked Negan to stick his leg out of the water so he could wash that. Negan complied, and soon his entire body was washed and all the bandages were off. The water he sat in wasn’t the cleanest anymore, but he felt brand new. He looked his body in amazement. It had been so long. He felt so at peace enveloped in the warmth of the water and the cleansing, hot steam rising from it. Combined with the floral-fruit aroma filling the air, Negan was sure he’d be lulled to sleep in no time.

Carl moved from the edge of the tub to sit on the floor, leaning back against the tub. He grabbed a few more of Judith’s toys, mostly just floaty animals, and offered them to Negan. The man took them and arranged them in a circle in the water as well he could with one hand. Carl smiled and watched the other play and soak. His eyes roamed the now clean body, and he cataloged all the scars that painted the man. Some looked very old, much older than the apocalypse. What had Negan been before this? Who had he been? Maybe he had been an auto-mechanic, fixing people’s cars and trucks. Maybe an athlete? He had the body for it that’s for sure, but maybe something softer? Perhaps he was a bank teller or a teacher?

Carl dipped his fingers in the warm water and sighed. Negan whined and looked at him, leaning closer and bumping his forehead against Carl’s. Carl smiled. Mayhaps one day Negan would tell him, but right now he was ok with not knowing. He didn’t need to know about past Negan when he had so much to learn about the present one.

A soft knock echoed on the door and Carl quickly pulled away and looked over. Rick opened the door slightly and poked his head into the bathroom, a little startled at finding Negan in a full blown bath. He assumed his son was just gonna wipe his face off, not offer him a full spa treatment. Though, the man  _ had  _ needed it. He cleared his throat and pointed behind him. “The attic is ready for… Negan. Do- do you want me to bring down some clothes for him?”

Carl looked at Negan who was eyeing Rick wearily, shoulders slightly hunched and ready to spring if need be. Even naked and in a bath, he managed to look threatening. Carl shook his head. “No, it’s cool. I’ll get him upstairs and dressed there. Thanks, dad.” Rick nodded, closing the door behind him as he left. Carl turned back to Negan and watched him relax again. He hoped one day Negan could become less tense in Rick’s presence. It would just take time he supposed.

“Ok, let’s get you out,” Carl grabbed his large towel off the hanger on the back of the door and came back over to the tub, reaching down and pulled the stopper out of the drain. Negan watched at the floating toys began getting sucked towards the drain as the dirty water began to get shallower. He chuckled as the duck spun over the top of the drain, trapped in the cyclone of water. Carl held out his arm for Negan to take with his good hand and helped him up. 

As he stepped out of the tub, Carl quickly wrapped the towel around Negan’s waist, tucking in the corner so it’d stay up by itself. “Sit down here for a sec,” he said, motioning to the closed toilet seat. Negan sat and Carl grabbed a smaller towel, using it to dry Negan’s hair and his upper body. The soft plush of the towel against his skin made Negan shiver in delight.

Carl placed the small towel back on the rack and held his hand out to Negan who took it and rubbed his cheek onto Carl’s wrist. Carl snorted and smiled at him, gripping his hand and pulling to get him to stand up. “Come on. I’ll show you your room and you can get some clothes on,” Carl said, pulling Negan out the door.

Making their way up the attic stairs, Carl reached the top first and pulled the string on the light hanging from the ceiling. It lit up the small space in a warm yellow glow, highlighting the bare room. There was a small round window on the far wall that looked out over the street that ran in front of the house. Near it sat a few trunks that Carl knew were packed with some of their extra canned food and bullets. That was all that had been in the attic the last time Carl had been up there, but now there was also a bed with a small frame, a short double drawer dresser with a large mirror on the back, and a tall lamp by the head of the bed. Coupled with the overhead light, it gave the room a bit more ambiance but not much.

Carl made his way to the dresser and started opening and closing drawers. Each one had a couple different types of clothing in it. Jeans, shirts, underwear. Nothing fancy, but they were the essentials. Carl pulled out a pair of boxers and a light t-shirt and turned back to Negan who was running his hand over the lamp shade. Carl cleared his throat to get his attention and held up the shirt to him.

“Do you want help? Cause of your arm?” He asked. Negan looked at the shirt and then at his arm and then at the shirt. He plucked it out of Carl’s hands and in one smooth motion, like he had worn shirts all his life, had it tugged on. Carl just raised his eyebrows at him and held out the boxers to him next. 

Carl turned when Negan dropped his towel, face going pink. He collected the towel from the floor when Negan was done, turning around when he heard the springs creak in the bed as Negan sat down.

“Alright, well,” Carl looked around the attic as Negan bounced on his bed gently. “This is your space now. I hope you like it. You’ll be able to do whatever you want with it.” Trying to imagine what this man would decorate his room with was a lost cause on Carl, but he was interested to see how the space evolved as Negan got more comfortable. 

Moving to the top of the stairs, Carl looked back at Negan. The man was staring at him with large eyes as if saying, ‘Where are you going?’ Carl smiled at him. “If you need me, I’ll be right downstairs in my room, ok? Good night, Negan.” And with that Carl made his way down the stairs.

Negan laid back in his new bed. He stared at the rafters above him, and listened to the sounds of the house. Being above everyone else, there were no sounds of footsteps overhead, but muffled sounds of talking floated up from below. The eaves creaked minutely as the wind blew against the house. Crickets chirped and cicadas screamed outside. Negan turned onto his side and curled into himself. He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in. Lilac and strawberry. He let a deep breath out.


	6. Doctor's Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Negan get a check up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello! I am so sorry for the long wait! Life just got in the way with work and mental health and just.. life! Never worry though, I have so much of this story mapped out, I won't abandon it I swear. You just gotta give me time!
> 
> As always shout out to my best friend [milarca](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Milarca/pseuds/Milarca) for reading over my chapters and teaching me grammar skills I thought I knew.
> 
> Visit me on tumblr too! Same username as here~
> 
> Bit of trigger warnings for this chapter include medical situations and wound descriptions.

Crickets chirped as the stars hung overhead. Carl shifted in his bed. He had awoken and rolled over, readjusted himself beneath his blankets, and found himself listening to the insect’s music as he waited to fall back asleep. His eye felt heavy, and he was comfortable, but there was something off. The air felt tense. The hair on this back of his neck was raised. He felt like he was being watched. Carl tried to keep his breath smooth and even and just ignore the feeling. It was probably left over from the dream he had been having before he had awoken. He wanted to turn and look at his bedroom door, but fear at what he’d find had frozen him. He told himself he was being silly, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Eventually, sleep was stronger than the ominous feeling, and Carl found himself slipping back into its dark embrace.

~~

Morning came with the sound of bird calls and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. Most of them were already deep oranges and red, and soon they’d all be on the ground, ready to be crunched underfoot.

Carl awoke when a beam of sunlight landed across his one eyelid and dragged him from dreamland. He groaned and rolled over, away from the offending light. He tried going back to sleep, but the sounds of the birds at his windows and movement downstairs were just enough to keep him awake. He sighed and sat up groggily, stretching his arms above his head until he heard the bones of his spine pop.

Shuffling out of bed, he made his way to the bathroom to perform his morning routine. As he brushed his teeth, he had the inkling thought that he was forgetting something. Something that was supposed to happen that day, maybe? He shrugged it off. Must not be that important if he couldn’t remember it. He finished up and left the bathroom, heading back to his room to get dressed for the day. He didn’t know what Negan and him would get up to, but he wanted to definitely get out and show him around.

Once dressed, Carl ventured to the attic. The door had been cracked open, and there was no response when he called, so he went right up. He found Negan sitting on a trunk, staring out the window at the far side of the room. Had he been awake long, Carl wondered.

When Negan heard Carl, his head whipped around and he smiled. Carl smiled back. “Did you sleep well?” he asked. Negan shuffled one foot on the ground and nodded. “Good, good,” Carl said before walking over to the dresser. “We’re gonna go out today, so you should get dressed,” he explained, pulling out a pair of jeans and a button up buffalo check shirt. He turned to set the items on the bed, but gasped as he found Negan standing directly behind him. Negan flinched slightly and backed up a step. Carl laughed nervously.

“Sorry, you startled me,” he said “Here.” He handed off the clothes and watched as Negan got the jeans on fairly easily, but couldn’t do up the zipper or button with his splinted hand. “Let me help,” Carl said, stepping into the man’s space and fastening his pants for him, trying to keep the blush off his cheeks. Any time he was in Negan’s personal space he felt his pulse start racing in a way that he didn’t yet know if he liked or not.

He helped Negan button up the shirt too and then the two headed downstairs. The rest of the household were already downstairs; Rick feeding Judith, and Michonne finishing making scrambled eggs. There was already toast and jam on the table. Carl found himself practically drooling at the smell of it all. He gestured for Negan for follow him to the table and took his usual spot. Negan stood next to him.

“Mornin’,” Carl greeted his father. Rick nodded back at him, focused on getting some jammy toast into Judith’s mouth via a fork and not her hands. It wasn’t going well. Jam painted her face, her hair, and even the walls. When she spotted Negan, she giggled and waved at him, completely ignoring her father. Rick shot Negan a look who shot him one back. Before Rick could say anything, Michonne brought the eggs over on a large plate and placed it on the table. She took her spot next to Rick before glancing over to Carl and Negan, who still stood by the table.

“Negan, please sit. Eat,” she said, gesturing to the food as she placed some of each thing on to her plate. Negan shifted in his spot and looked at Carl. The boy looked up at him. Was this going to be a repeat of dinner last night?

“You can sit right there.” Carl pointed to the chair next to him. “It’s ok.” Negan glanced to the empty chair. He didn’t look too enthused about it. Whining, he fell to his knees and took the same place he had the night before, on the floor next to Carl. Carl frowned. Negan was looking at him with such a fear and reverence that he couldn’t bring himself to tell him to move.

Rick cleared his throat. “Again?”

Carl looked up at his father, his eyebrows knitting. “He’ll learn eventually. He’s still adjusting. Just give him time.” He grabbed at the toast a bit more aggressively than need be, and prepared some for both him and Negan. He added some eggs and handed Negan’s plate to him. Negan grinned and dived into the food before Carl could hand him a fork. He sighed. That was another thing to work on.

“So, what are your plans for today?” Michonne asked between bites of food.

“Not sure yet.” Carl shrugged. “Figured we’d just wander, give him a sense of where stuff is.”

“Don’t forget,” Rick said, taking a sip of his coffee, “you have an appointment with Denise today. For your eye.”

“Oh yeah…” That was what that nagging thing at the back of his mind had been that morning. It had been a month since his last check up. “Well, then I guess we’ll go there first. Maybe Negan can get his splint off while we’re there.”

Negan looked up at his name being said, bits of egg stuck in his beard. Carl snorted and passed him a napkin.

~~

The smell of antiseptic stung his nose. Negan huffed and made a face. He watched Carl, who was sitting on the small exam bed, kicking his dangling feet back and forth. They were waiting for Denise to show back up. She had been on her way to check on someone who was quarantined with the flu as soon as they had stepped into the infirmary. She rushed off to deal with it, apologizing profusely as she left. Negan wanted her to hurry up so they could do whatever they were here for and then leave. This place made his hair stand on end.

Negan poked around at the shiny instruments on the counter until Carl softly scolded him about touching things. So, then he poked around on the desk until Carl sighed exasperatedly. He was about to poke around in the back room when Carl pointed to the chair that sat next to the exam table and told him to sit down. Negan whined and sat, hanging his head down. Reaching up, he took hold of Carl’s ankle that was closest to him and just held it.

Denise entered the room not ten minutes later. “I’m so sorry about the wait, Carl. You know how these illnesses like to just pop up. Especially as the seasons change.” She set down her bag and took off her outside coat, replacing it with a white doctor’s coat. Picking up a few tools, she placed them into a metal tray and brought it over to the exam table, setting it down next to Carl. “Alright, I’m checking your eye like usual, but… what am I doing for... him?” She lowered her voice and tilted her head over to Negan.

“Just check over his wounds you looked at before, and see if he can get the splint taken off,” Carl said. He leaned closer to Denise and lowered his voice. “Also, could we try to get the c-o-l-l-a-r off again?”

Denise frowned at that. She had almost lost her hand the last time she had touched that thing, and Negan hadn’t even been conscious for it.

“I can… try,” she said, nodding at Carl. “But, let me look at your eye first.”

Carl sat up straight and took off his hat, setting it next to him on the bed. Negan watched curiously as Carl’s hands came up behind his head and began unwrapping the bandage that circled his head.

Negan whined. He couldn’t see what Carl had uncovered because the boy’s hair still fell in his face, and even when he brushed it back, Denise moved in front of him. Negan tried to stand, but Carl held a hand up to him. “It’s ok, Negan. Calm down,” Carl said, turning his face away from the man so that the doctor could get a better view.

Denise pulled on some medical gloves, glancing over at Negan with a frown. She’d really rather him not be in the same room as she did this, but then again, she didn’t want him unsupervised. She had learned snippets of where he had came from and how he gotten to Alexandria when she treated his wounds, but she didn’t know a lot, and was afraid to ask. The man looked like he was going to pounce on her at any moment. She much preferred him unconscious.  

Reaching up to inspect Carl’s eye wound, Denise gasped and flinched back as Negan let out a sharp growl right before her hands touched Carl. She dropped her hands and looked at him. He stopped growling.

“It’s ok, he’s just protective,” Carl explained, not even looking over at Negan.

“Well…” Denise frowned, and reached up again, trying to do her job. She was an inch from Carl’s face when Negan started growling again. She huffed in annoyance and dropped her hands again, glaring at the man in the chair. He stopped growling and glared back. Keeping her eye contact with Negan, Denise raised her hand towards Carl face. She’d get close, Negan would growl, she’d pull away, he’d stop. She repeated this three more times before Carl whipped his head around and glared his one eye at Negan.

“Negan, stop it or you can go sit in the other room!” He snapped. Negan whined, from the yelling but also because he finally got a good view of Carl’s eye wound and he was concerned. But, he obeyed, laying his head on the bed next to Carl’s thigh and gazing up at him. Carl rested his hand on Negan’s head, softly running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you,” Carl breathed out, facing his wound back towards Denise. He hated to snap at Negan, but he just wanted the exam over with so he could wrap his eye back up.

Denise reached up and moved Carl’s hair, clipping it back with a barrette. She softly felt the puckered skin around his socket, applying slight pressure as she went. “Any pain?”

“Nope.”

“Good,” she moved closer to the socket. “Now?”

“Nope.” It hadn’t hurt in a while and it was healing just fine. Carl didn’t understand why his dad wanted him to keep having these checkups.

When Denise’s fingers made their way to the flesh where his eye once was, he felt himself tense. It didn’t hurt, but it was a strange feeling. His fingers that were in Negan’s hair pulled it sharply when he tensed, eliciting a whine from the man. Carl let go, and patted his head in apology.

Denise fixed the exam, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The wound was healing as it should, albeit at a slower pace than if Carl had access to an actual hospital. She gave Carl a small jar of ointment that had been recently found on a supply run. “Put this on every other day. It’ll just help with the healing.” Carl nodded and pocketed the jar, rewrapping his eye.

Negan watched from his spot next to him. He hadn’t gotten to see Carl’s eye up close, but maybe Carl would show him later. He watched as Carl hopped down and then patted the space he had just occupied.

“Ok, Negan, your turn. Denise is just going to check your injuries and your arm, ok?” Carl said softly. Negan looked at Denise, who was getting clean gloves on, and then back at Carl. He huffed but got on the table.

“Can you, uh, take his shirt off?” Denise asked Carl, not sure if she should address Negan directly. Carl nodded and Negan allowed him to unbutton it and help slip it off over his splint. Negan shivered.

Denise examined all of his bodily wounds first, with nary a growl from Negan. He sat perfectly still, holding onto Carl’s sleeve, the whole time. “Well, these are all healing just fine,” she finally said. “A few might scar, but nothing bad. Now, let me see your arm.” She held her hand out. Negan looked at Carl, who gave a small nod, before placing his arm in Denise’s hand.

Gently, she unwrapped the bandage that was holding the two pieces of plastic to Negan’s arm. It was easy to tell that this arm had not been washed with the rest of him. Carl almost laughed at the stark color difference between the grime and the lack thereof.

Once his arm was free, Negan turned it over and over to look at it. It felt so strange being in the open air after being wrapped for so long. He made a fist and squeezed, watching his muscles contract. It felt great.

Denise softly took it back into her hands, applying pressure in certain places and feeling for the bone. “Is there any pain here?” she asked, pressing over a spot right in the middle of his forearm where a yellow bruise had formed. Negan made no comment or reaction, so she took that as a no. She examined it the best she could without a proper X-ray machine, and determined that the bone had successfully fused itself back together. “Don’t put too much pressure on it right away, but he should be good to go without a splint or brace.”

Carl nodded and watched as Negan felt his own arm, looking amazed. Carl looked back to Denise and pointed at his neck, questioningly. Denise sighed but nodded, moving away to find some medical scissors that would cut through the thick leather.

“Hey, Negan,” Carl got onto the exam table next to him. “We’re going to-,” Negan suddenly shoved his newly healed arm into Carl’s face. He grinned and gestured to it like ‘look at this miracle!’. Carl laughed and patted his arm. “Yes, yes, it’s healed. That’s fantastic,” He gently pushed the arm back towards its owner. “But, um, Negan, I was hoping you’d let us get your collar off.”

Negan’s grin instantly faded. He reached up to run his fingers over the leather, wincing. The pain from it cutting into his skin constantly for so long was evident. Sores and chafe marks encircled the skin near the rough leather. Parts of it looked infected. Looking at Carl with wide eyes, Negan let out the longest whine Carl had ever heard from the man. It was almost comical.

“You can keep it after we get it off,” Carl said, putting his hand on Negan’s arm. “But, it’s hurting you, and I don’t want that.” He stared up at Negan, giving him his best puppy dog eyes.

Negan whined again. The collar had brought him nothing but pain in his life, but he had learned to respect it and obey it. But, here was this boy. This boy who had brought him nothing but help and healing. Surely he deserved Negan’s respect and obedience much more. Negan sighed before dropping his head and bumping his forehead on Carl’s. He reached out and took Carl’s hand, placing it against his throat.

Carl let out a small gasp, but smiled. He had been given permission. “Thank you.”

“Is that a yes, then?” Denise asked, walking back over to the duo, scissors in hand. Carl backed up from Negan and nodded at her.

“Ok, Negan.” Carl cupped the man’s cheek in his hand, running his fingers over the scruffy beard that grew there. “Denise is going to cut it off. It might hurt a little, but just relax, ok?” Negan glanced between Carl and Denise, humming. When Denise reached towards his neck, he started to growl. She flinched back and he stopped. She narrowed her eyes at him and reached forward again. He started growling.

“Sir, please! I am just trying to help!” Denise snapped at Negan, looking to Carl with imploring eyes. If she got paid, she wouldn’t be getting paid enough for this. She watched as Carl turned Negan’s head toward him and talked to him softly. Her eyebrow raised as Negan’s shoulders relaxed and he sighed. The effect Carl had on him was astounding. Carl gave her a thumbs up and she moved back in.

Feeling around the edge of the collar, Denise looked for a place where it wasn’t so tightly embedded into the skin. In some places, it seemed like skin was trying to heal over it. She was afraid she’d actually have to make an incision into the skin first before she’d be able to get the scissors under the collar. Negan shook beneath her touch, but he didn’t make a noise or pull away.

Finally, she found a spot where she could pull the bottom edge of the collar away from his skin just enough for her to slide the scissors under the thick leather. The cold metal against the irritated skin caused Negan to flinch and whine, but Carl shushed him gently.

Denise worked the scissors up until they poked out the top of the collar, squeezing them closed. It took a couple tries, but eventually the leather gave way to the scissors and they sliced right through. Negan gasped. The pressure around his neck was finally released. Setting the scissors down, Denise began slowly peeling the collar away from Negan’s abused skin. God, it looked like an injury you’d see on an abused dog, not a human.

The skin beneath the collar was raw, bleeding in places and oozing pus in others. As it went, some of the skin had in fact healed to the edges of the collar. Denise delicately severed the hold it had on the leather with a scalpel.

Negan gasped and groaned as she worked, trying his best not to move. It hurt. It hurt so much. Like a ring of fire was burning around his throat. He gritted his teeth as the last bit of skin was cut and the collar fell away from his skin forever. He panted and reached up to touch his bare neck, but Denise pushed his hands down.

“No, don’t touch. I need to clean it,” she explained, gingerly holding the collar in one hand as she walked to the sink on the other side of the room. She lay it in a metal tub in the sink and poured a generous amount of hydrogen peroxide over it, leaving it there to soak. Keeping the hydrogen peroxide with her, she changed her gloves and grabbed a few more cleaning and bandaging supplies before making her way back over to Negan.

Soaking a cotton ball in the peroxide, Denise began dabbing at Negan’s neck wound. He jerked slightly from the cold and the pain, a shiver running down his spine. She kept going, changing the cotton ball when needed, until the wound was as clean as she could get it. A lot of the pus had washed away and the bleeding had stopped. The skin just looked angry and raw. She used a Q-tip to apply a medical grade antibiotic cream, a glorified Neosporin really, around the entire wound, before wrapping the entire thing in a couple layers of gauze.

“Alright,” Denise let a breath, wiping her forehead on her arm. “Leave that bandage on for a day, take it off and clean it, put more of this on, and rewrap it.” She explained, handing the cream to Carl who nodded.

“Same as my eye really,” he commented. Denise hummed and nodded. She watched as Negan reached up and ran his fingers lightly over the bandages around his neck. He winced and she was afraid he was going to pick at the bandage, but he just dropped his hands and turned to Carl.

Negan stretched his neck out, looking up at the ceiling and tapped Carl on the shoulder excitedly. Carl laughed. “Yes, I see. It’s just like the other bandages you had,” Carl pointed out and Negan looked down at his healed arm again, shoving that in Carl’s face as well.

Denise left them to it as she took her tools back to the sink. “Oh,” she said. She had forgotten about the collar. Dumping out the dirty hydrogen peroxide bath, she rinsed the leather off, running her fingers over the letters that were burned into it. NEGAN. She sighed. What a horrible thing to do to someone.

Placing the collar into a ziploc bag, she walked back over and handed it to Negan. He took it gingerly, staring at it like it was the most perplexing object in the world. Carl thanked Denise, pocketing the cream for Negan’s neck. He hopped off the bed and gestured for Negan to do the same.

“I’ll see you in a month?” Carl asked, handing Negan his shirt to put back on.

“Yes,” Denise said, nodding. “Take care now.” She waved goodbye to them. Once they were gone, she collapsed in her chair, running her hands over her face. She wasn’t paid enough for this.

~~

At dinner that night, Negan wouldn’t stop showing off his healed arm and his collarless throat. He preened at Michonne and Judith, even letting the younger touch his arm. Surprising everyone, he even showed Rick, who was astounded that Negan would bare his neck for him so casually. Though, he was still unamused by Negan’s refusal to sit in a chair.

~~

“Good night, Negan,” Carl called as he descended the stairs of the attic.

Negan waited until he was gone before climbing out of bed. He took his collar, still in the bag, from where he had set it on his dresser and moved to the window at the other end of the room. He sat on the trunk that rested near it and regarded his collar with mixed emotions.

The bag crinkled as he moved it, turning it every which way. The moonlight illuminated the letters burned into the leather. He couldn’t understand them. Not anymore. That skill and many others had been beaten out of him long ago. He clenched his hands around the collar, shaking.

Negan watched the leaves on the trees shake in the wind outside. The moonlight streaming through them casted dancing shadows on the street. All was calm. Peaceful.

Negan set the collar down on the windowsill and headed back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you're an old reader, thanks for sticking around! If you're a new reader, welcome and thanks for making it this far! I promise the next chapter won't take me 5 months to write !!
> 
> Help me eat, and thus write faster, by [buying me a coffee?](https://ko-fi.com/A073WM6)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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